Just a little Hermione/Lucius drabble that popped into my head one night and coincidentally my first Harry Potter oneshot as well as the only one not rated M. Feel free to let me know what you think, it's a little different from some of my other stories. As always, everything belongs to the lovely J.K. So, without further ado...
I was so tired. Just so, so tired. Actually, tired did not begin to cover the exhaustion that weighed down my limbs and prickled my eyes as I rolled away from him. We were in a hotel room, the pair of us holed up there for the last forty-eight hours attempting to reach some kind of conclusion, but falling into bed together instead. We hadn't solved anything and I felt numb to everything aside from pure, unadulterated fatigue. I had given everything I had to this man, offered all of the best parts of myself for him to appraise and alter, to critique and to shape. I didn't have much to show for it.
I slipped out from the bed, his eyes briefly darting to my body as the sheets fell away from my bare back. It was silent as I pulled on my dress before turning back to face him. The quiet continued as he dressed then sat at the edge of the bed. My mind blurred as I tried to sort the competing thoughts into coherent sentences. Use your words, Hermione.
"What do you want me to do?" He sighed, shaking his head mutely at my question. "What more of myself can I offer you, Lucius?"
"It is not about that," He drawled coolly. "It has never been about that."
His jaw was set hard enough to cut glass, his mouth thin, and his brow rigid. It was only his eyes that gave him away; steel grey windows to a tumultuous ocean of thoughts he refused to give voice to.
"It has always been about that. I can't blame you, I let you do it, but it has always been about what I can give to you."
"All I've wanted is you. Entirely and completely, but simply you."
"Then fight for me! Prove to me that all of this was worth it, that these last two years meant something to you, you cold-hearted bastard!"
"It is not so simple as to simply do what one desires," He responded coolly.
"It always had been for you."
"I'm well aware, Miss Granger, and how I wish it were the same now."
He was so cold with me now, so completely detached from our relationship as he stood and approached me. Just a month ago, the pair of us had spent a week in Monaco, carelessly basking in the sun on the beautiful coast. The food, the wine, the company - I couldn't recall a time I had ever been more content. A month ago, we were the perfect lovers. A month ago he wasn't intent on leaving me.
"I love you," I whispered so softly I wasn't sure he heard it and it was then I knew I truly had nothing else to give. Eight letters were all I had held onto.
"I know," He replied, kissing my forehead in an uncharacteristic display of gentleness. His hand brushed against my jaw, raising my face to look at him. "And you know."
He wouldn't say those three words, and perhaps it was better that he didn't. Knowing he would leave me even though he loved me would surely ruin me.
He sat back on the bed, his arms resting on his knees and fingers steepled. He stared at the floor without really seeing it, no trace of emotion shown on his features. I gave him his peace, pondering if it were indeed possible that this man could love me, if he had loved me, if he would choose me.
"I must go, Hermione."
"No, Lucius, you at least owe me an explanation."
"Oh, my mistress demands to know why I'm leaving her for my wife, does she?"
"Stop, just stop."
I knelt before him, my fingers gracing the refined planes of his face. He didn't move from the bed, didn't move at all other than to stare at me.
"You don't get to be hurtful, you don't get to be cruel," I managed, though my wavering voice threatened to break at any moment. "Not to me, not now."
I blinked back tears threatening to fall. I wouldn't cry in front of this man, and even though the look in his eyes told me he was set in his resolve, that nothing I was capable of could make him stay, I would not let him see me that weak.
Instead, I brushed my lips against his. There's something different about a kiss goodbye. Usually, you don't know that your last kiss will be just that. There's still happiness in most last kisses, but the memory of it is usually so ephemeral. Not with Lucius. Everything from the movement of his lips to the tension of his fingertips on me said finality. As he pulled away, he brushed a few stray locks of hair from my face, managing to keep his face composed.
"Do you love her?"
"Does that change anything?"
"You think going back to them now will suddenly make you honourable?" I asked as I stood up, my back turned to him as I stared out the hotel window into the London skyline. He breathed out a mirthless laugh.
"This has never been about honour." I glanced briefly over my shoulder before returning to the city lights.
"If not for honour, then for what?"
"There are things bigger than oneself, Miss Granger. You of all people should know that."
I watched him rise, noticed how he carefully adjusted his cloak before he departed, and then he was gone.
And he was right, I knew very well.